The Choice
by dvpdvpdvp
Summary: Monroe thought since he no longer led a Republic, he no longer had to make difficult decisions.
1. Chapter 1

Being that hauling oranges into Willoughby made no sense, Gene and Charlie did more investigating and managed to learn they were injecting the fruit with some sort of drug…and unlikely anything good. Without knowing exactly what drug was being used, determining what the patriots' end game was would be next to impossible.

When a small group of patriots left Willoughby—likely to restock the drug—Gene and Charlie (mostly Charlie) decided to follow them. Her mom and Miles couldn't be too mad at them, Charlie figured. They were actually staying away from most of the patriots and finding answers wasn't stupid. Really, her mom and uncle should have been more specific with their warnings before they left.

The further south they got, however, the more concerned they became. If they didn't reach a destination soon, they were going to end up in South America soon. Maybe even the Antarctic.

x ~ x ~ x ~ x ~ x ~ x

Getting across the Mexican border could have been very difficult. Apparently a few days ago there had been an incident with some day workers so the border patrol personnel were scrutinizing everyone crossing into Mexico.

While trying to come up with a workable plan, Gene noticed that many of the border guards looked…unwell. Carefully, Gene approached one of the more sickly looking guards and gently asked her, in fluent Spanish, if she was OK. She tried to look strong, but once he mentioned he was a doctor in Texas, she relented and explained something was going around, but no doctor was going to be available to administer whatever healthcare they had in terms of supplies.

Realizing this was a possible means into the country, Gene offered to help. The guard motioned her supervisor over and explained the situation. While the man wasn't sick himself, he knew it was a bad idea to have so many sick underlings, especially on patrol on the border.

Gene had to endure questioning and suspicion from the man accusing him of subterfuge…helping these guards out of the goodness of his heart, he had added sarcastically.

"Look, I am a doctor and I do help people when they are ill. But no, I am not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. My granddaughter and I are looking for her mother…my daughter. We know she is in Mexico and we just want to make sure she is safe. We haven't heard from her in a while."

Appreciating the American's honesty, the man nodded his assent.

After about an hour of administering shots, taking temperature, and doing other doctorly duties, with the help of his trusty new nurse, they were on their way in Mexico.

"A word of advice," Gene began to his granddaughter. Upon gaining her attention, he continued, "whenever this war ends and you have the ability to actually have a normal life…stay away from the medical profession. Your bedside manners are horrible."

The two smiled in easy agreement.

x ~ x ~ x ~ x ~ x ~ x

Later that day, the patriots had reached their destination and picked up a new batch of drugs. Gene and Charlie bedded down for the night, with plans of more investigation in the morning. Charlie took first watch and decided to do a quick perimeter sweep. Gene had just put his head down when he heard a commotion. He crept over to the slight ridge they had camped near, just in time to see Charlie being dragged away by some men.

He went to follow, but realized, as they threw her onto a horse, that he may not be able to keep up. The current occupier of the horse—a young fairer skinned man—sat behind Charlie, holding the reigns in one hand and a gun in the other…both his arms around her. Fortunately for Gene, not all the men had horses, so the group had to travel at a man's pace. He just hoped she didn't try to escape on her own and get killed in the process.

Lately he had come to realize that she had changed greatly from the five year old little granddaughter he knew before the blackout, and not for the better he believed. She was still forgiving, more so than the others, but she was colder, unfeeling and much too comfortable and efficient when it came to killing. Even more disturbingly, she had seemed to change further still over the last weeks since her return to Willoughby with Monroe. He was sure he was to blame.

As he tracked the group from upon his position on the ridge, he noticed a small campfire not too far in the distance. The group who had Charlie couldn't see the fire from their vantage point and Gene couldn't be sure if the campfire was part of them, or just some other travelers. Unfortunately, investigating the fire meant breaking off from Charlie's trail and he just couldn't do that.

Suddenly he felt the muzzle of a gun on him and he froze. He just wasn't really cut out for this stealthy soldier stuff. He put his hands up and felt his gun taken from him.

"What is your business here?" asked a menacing voice Gene swore he knew. He slowly turned around for confirmation, which he got when he saw one confused Miles Matheson.

"Dad? What are you doing here? I thought I told you three to stay put?" He was about to answer his daughter when Miles added in "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid?"

x ~ x ~ x ~ x ~ x ~ x

As Rachel, Miles, and Monroe gathered around him, Gene very quickly recounted the last few days…Aaron leaving, the discovery of what the Patriots were hauling, finding that the food was being drugged, and about them following the patriots down to Texas.

"Where are Charlie and Aaron?" Rachel could feel the pit in her stomach forming.

Completely ignoring the Aaron question, Gene continued, "Charlie went to do a perimeter check. They took her," pointing in the direction of the traveling group. "I don't know who they are or what they want…" Gene explained as he felt someone, Monroe, walk behind him towards the ridge, "but considering what Charlie and I've seen here so far…I don't even want to consider what is going…"

"What are you doing, Bass?" Miles whispered loudly, though they were far enough from the compound to make even the pretense of whispering unnecessary.

"Where do you think?" He impatiently tossed back as he started down the sloping ridge. As an afterthought, he added, "I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

"You know what you're doing?" Miles was incredulous. He couldn't keep the sarcasm dripping from his voice. His niece was in trouble and Bass was just going off half cocked. "Somewhere in your vast experience of battle you have knowledge in saving Charlie from prostitution or gang rape or whatever they have in mind for her?"

Bass stopped his descent abruptly. He turned most of his body back towards the group and addressed them, with a little more melancholy in his tone than he wanted: "Yes. I do." He just as suddenly turned back around to continue his descent towards Charlie without waiting for a response.

The gravity of that simple declaration hit the group. Rachel, stunned, looked at Miles for confirmation that she had drawn the correct conclusion. Monroe hadn't just saved Charlie's life back in the Plains Nation; he had protected it on a level she truly didn't think him capable of. Before anything could be said, Bass had already made it several hundred yards from their camp.

Bass approached the traveling band of assholes and slowly raised his hands. Connor recognized him immediately and smiled. A rather calculating, cold smile. He should have known his father wouldn't give up on a goal so easily. Not General Sebastian Monroe. Connor realized he should have had scouts further out…then Monroe could have been spotted and captured or killed and he would have no longer been the pesky loose end he has quickly become.

Charlie saw Monroe, too, and immediately a sense of confusion then relief washed over her. How in the world could she end up in a mess like this in the middle of Mexico and then have none other than Sebastian Monroe waltz in, no doubt to rescue her. Again. Actually, she didn't care how unlikely it was, she was just incredibly thankful.

"Hey…dad."

Charlie was momentarily stunned. Not that Bass had a son…she knew that. It was that his son was someone like this. Then the situation really hit her and she did the only thing that made sense. She laughed.

"Is there something in your family's DNA that requires you hold me hostage at least once?"

Monroe was relieved that although she looked appropriately concerned about the situation, she still had her wits about her. It would make any escape attempt easier.

Connor was intrigued. So, these two knew each other. Small world. Wondering what this girl was to Monroe, Connor decided to probe a bit. "So, have you gone from the terrifying leader of the Monroe Republic to knight in shining armor protecting the virtue of every fair maiden in the land…or does this one in particular mean something to you?"

Bass smirked and replied in a non-committal tone, "What makes you think those two are mutually exclusive?"

Connor smiled. At least his dad was the type of jackass who wouldn't be manipulated or pigeonholed by a sarcastic comment. "So?"

"I know her." Bass began. A knowing smile ghosted his face. "You do not want that headache. Trust me."

Really? Connor was surprised by that comment. Reappraising the girl, he still couldn't see it. Not really. "She doesn't look like too much." He replied, shrugging.

Sighing, Bass clued his son in on something. "If you plan on leading your own personal army, you need to learn to read people a little better. Looks can be deceiving. Our current affiliation, " Bass continued, absent mindedly using his hands to indicate himself and Charlie, "may be more amicable than in the past, but she is still one of the few people on this planet that causes me to look over my shoulder once in a while. Hell, she nearly assassinated me in New Vegas. If it hadn't been for a fortuitously timed encounter with a bounty hunter, I would have had an arrow right through my chest." Bass paused, giving Connor time to consider the warning.

"Actually it would have been through your stupid face." Charlie grumbled.

Leave it to Charlie to add some needed comic relief. Except that Bass was completely sure she wasn't joking. Smiling, he continued. "So you can see, when we go on patrols, I prefer to keep her in front of me so I don't have to worry about a knife in my back."

"And not so you can stare at her ass? Or are those two not mutually exclusive, too?"

At least the kid pays attention to a conversation.

Connor was enjoying this tête-à-tête, but decided it was getting a little too light hearted.

"So, dad, I've really enjoyed this impromptu rap session. I guess I could learn some things from the great General Monroe. Don't expect me to stay for every, but I guess I could spare some time for you."

Bass was elated…then immediately suspicious. He narrowed his eyes towards his son. There was no legitimate reason for the sudden change of heart in his son.

"Let's go." Connor motioned and began walked towards his dad. He suddenly came up short. "Oh, but the girl stays."

And there it was.

"No."

No begging, no pleading, nothing but damned near an order issued from the General of the Monroe Republic.

"You can't have everything, General. Either I go with you…or you take the girl…but not both. And I promise you, if you choose her over me right now, you will never see me again." There was a great deal of conviction in the young man's eyes.

What is this, Sophie's Choice? Bass thought to himself. Whoever he leaves behind is doomed to a violent, albeit a likely short, life. How was he supposed to choose? Actually, he realized, this wasn't much of a choice at all, not when he really thought about it.

Connor was concerned he might have overplayed his hand. He shouldn't push too hard or his father might realize he was being manipulated. For the past eight years, Senor Nunez had been telling him he had a tendency to just _overdo_ everything. A little too over the top. He suddenly wondered if he got that from the man standing in front of him.

He was, however, enjoying the pain that was evident on his father's face. Now he truly did want to know what was between these two. Before he could probe any deeper, he noticed the look of pain disappear on the man's face. So a decision had been made. He'd have to spend some time with his dad; just enough to get some Intel on what was going on north of the border. Then he'd kill him. Or order one of the Nunez cartel men to do it.

Bass just stared at Charlie. Not wavering for even a moment. "I'm sorry," he mumbled as he slowly stepped forward and reached out toward Connor.

Connor inwardly smiled. No, he _outwardly_ smiled. He would be sure to torture his dad regaling him with stories of what would be happening to this girl of his. Maybe he wouldn't have to kill his dad. Maybe he could drive the general to kill himself. Challenge accepted! Now that would be a feather in his cap; knowing he had the capacity to drive a power hungry, dangerous dictator to enough despair to kill himself.

Suddenly Connor realized he had miscalculated, though, as Bass continued reaching past him and quickly grabbed onto Charlie's arm. Too shocked to be angry at this moment, he realized that maybe his dad was right. He did need to learn to read people better.

Monroe could tell that Charlie had believed he had chosen his son. He could also tell she was grateful she had been wrong. As they moved to go…as quickly as they could…Bass could hear his son mocking him.

"So you chose her? I thought you cared about knowing your son. Don't you love me enough to want to know me?" Spiteful as he sounded, Connor never want to go…didn't want to be chosen, but it stung none the less, though it may just be the sting of failure that hurt.

Turning around, Bass stopped and looked directly at the young man. "You are my son, Connor. Of course I love you," he paused to look at the girl before leading her to safety. "But she is the one I care about."


	2. Chapter 2

He had been walking behind the Matheson clan's wagon for over an hour, having found riding in it with the others just too much to deal with. But, without conversation or other diversions, he was left alone with his thoughts. And that wasn't good.

Bass subconsciously slowed his pace. The enormity of his earlier decision hit him like a ton of bricks, sending him to his knees with loss. He had lost his child. Not to death, this time, but it was a profound loss none the less.

Charlie witnessed his collapse from the wagon and was out in moments, running to him. Putting her arms around him and keeping him from completely collapsing to the ground. Even in his moment of emotional crisis, Bass couldn't help but see the parallel of this moment to the last time he lost a child, his grief surrounded in the arms of a Matheson. As she held Bass, Charlie watched as Miles slowly approached.

"Come on Bass, we gotta keep going." It's not that Miles was unsympathetic to his friend's pain; he just didn't want to get stuck on the wrong side of the border. And who knew if Connor hadn't decided to get his cartel connections after them. Without any response from Monroe, he sighed in frustration, obviously in no mood to beg him into action. "Come on Charlie. Get in the wagon. He'll catch up when he's ready."

"No. _We'll_ catch up when he's ready." Charlie knew that Miles wouldn't get too far ahead of her, though she wasn't completely convinced that he would do the same for Monroe. She was even less sure that, if left to his own devices, Monroe would even try to catch up and not head back for Connor. As she watched Miles get back into the wagon and set off, she felt Bass get to his feet.

"You should go on." He motioned as he swayed a little before finally standing with more conviction.

"Nah, they'd probably just start in with a rousing rendition with 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, and I'm just not in the mood." She grinned, relieved that when she spied him sideways out of the corner of her eye, he had a faint smile too. She could tell he had no real semblance of humor in him right now, but she could also see he appreciated her effort.

They turned towards the direction the wagon had set off and begrudgingly walked onward in silence.

As time passed, the wagon got further ahead of them. While still within visual range, no real details could be made out. Appreciative of Charlie giving him the time and space needed to collect himself after his melt down, Bass realized didn't need either any longer. What he needed was some kind of connection. He quietly reached down and grasped her hand in his. Surprised, Charlie stared at him for a moment, but then smiled and remained otherwise silent.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Walking in silence for some time now, Charlie studied her companion. She felt bad for him. She never really associate the word _depressed_ with Monroe, but he looked broken and she felt at least partially responsible for his misery. If she had been more careful, more aware of her surroundings, she would never have been captured and he wouldn't have had to choose between his son and her safety.

"I'm sorry."

Startled, Bass turned his head to look at her, clearly puzzled. He should be apologizing to her for his momentary melt down earlier. He wouldn't though. While such a display of emotional weakness was embarrassing, he had a right. He had lost another child. This one may not have died, but he felt the loss just as keenly. Still trying to figure out why she was apologizing, he waited for her to continue.

"For making you have to choose. Maybe you should have just left me. I would have figured something…"

"No! Listen to me right now, Charlie." Bass had come to a swift stop and grabbed her by the shoulders forcing them to face each other. "YOU didn't make me choose anything. Connor was the one who gave the ultimatum."

"But if I hadn't been taken…"

He was not going to let her finish with that line of thought. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I done talking? No, I wasn't," Bass continued on, not even letting her participate in the conversation. "You didn't do anything wrong, Charlie. You didn't throw down that ultimatum and I sure as hell wasn't going to leave you there to endure god knows what just so he could pump me for Intel before slicing my throat."

After watching her arrive at that realization…one she hadn't considered before…he stopped. "Oh, yeah, you really think he wanted to spend time with dear old dad?" All Bass could do was to shake his head in frustration. "I really did want him to want to know me. I did. It has been so long since I felt like I had family, I just wanted that chance, you know? I figured he may hate me; be ashamed of me; be afraid of me. I never even considered that he may just be…me."

"Stop it!" Charlie knew that though he had been one of the most powerful and feared men on the continent, he still needed to vent just like anyone else, but self-pity-Sebastian just wasn't a good look for him. "I guess it wasn't really much of a choice, then, huh?" She grumbled, inwardly feeling very selfish. He was hurting at his loss and all she could focus on at the moment was the little twinge of hurt knowing he hadn't really and truly picked her over his son. In record time, she went from feeling guilty about putting him in that position to feeling guilty about being hurt that that choice hadn't even been real.

"Stop it." Bass parroted back to her. It was like he was reading her mind. She looked up at him, angry that her pity party had been interrupted, but then smiled when she realized that he was really just mocking her good naturedly, but with a dash of sincerity. Her smile deepened. They were both quite pathetic.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^

They continued on, trying to keep pace with the wagon so as not to get too far behind. They had been traveling most of the night and it would be getting light soon. The full moon still hung in the sky, though, and illuminated the landscape. Soon the sun would rise and reality would intrude, but for now Bass decided he could just feel like a young man spending time with the apple of his eye, holding her hand while taking a carefree evening stroll. Idly, he wondered if the world hadn't ended up the way it had, would he have been one of those romantic saps. Looking back at Charlie and their joined hands, he smiled and knew the answer.

"_Yep_ what?"

"Huh?" Bass questioned.

"You said 'Yep.' I was wondering what you were _yep_ing about."

He just smiled. "Nothing. Just thinking."

The landscape started becoming a little more rugged. Bass studied the area. He couldn't help but feel like they were being watched. He peered ahead to see if maybe Miles and the group had stopped and was waiting for them. Not seeing that, he released Charlie's hand as he turned back to scan the area behind them.

Charlie, taking Monroe's cue, began scanning the area, too. Not seeing anything, she turned back to him. "What is it?"

"My paranoia, apparently. Come on." Without conscious thought, he reached for her hand again, then realizing he would need to curtail that action when the group is all together again.

"Hey can I ask you something?" Bass wasn't sure if it was the impromptu reconnaissance session or if it was because of what was on her mind, but she seemed nervous.

"Anything."

"Well, I just," she started, but stopped and sighed, regrouping her thoughts, "I had a question and since you were a soldier and fought in a lot of battles, I thought maybe you could provide some insight."

"Miles is also a soldier. And your mom has fought many battles." He was aiming for reassurance, but got the distinct feeling he had said exactly the wrong thing.

"Yeah, ah, well." Sighing, again, and she shook her head, deciding on course of action: retreat. "Never mind. It's not important."

"Clearly it is." At her obvious hesitation and discomfort, Bass decided to be more accommodating. "Look, just ask. I won't laugh at you or look at you weird. In fact," he stated and dramatically turned his head away, with just a hint of a smirk on his face, "I won't look at you at all."

After waiting through a few moments of her silence, he was tempted to look back at her, but heard a loud sigh and waited a bit longer…giving her time. She still hadn't spoken and it took everything in him to not look at her. He could feel the anxiety rolling off her, but didn't want to risk her shutting down.

"Have you ever…I mean, after a battle, do you ever find yourself…" Another sigh. He squeezed her hand in support, but she quickly released her hold and took a few steps away from him with her back to him. He wasn't sure where she was headed with this conversation, but it definitely got his attention. Gun in her face, staring down impending death? No problem. A conversation about feelings or something? Terrifying. Definitely a Matheson.

He called to her, trying to prod the exchange forward. "War is hell, Charlie and it does things to the human experience. But whatever it is, I promise you that you will never be the only one to feel or say or think something, so what it is? What are you so concerned about?" She turned to look at him. She found the concern on his face and in his voice aggravating, and endearing, but stood silent as he continued on. "What? What do you go through after…"

"I get aroused!" With his stunned silence, she was pretty sure they could have heard crickets chirping, if they hadn't been shocked into silence as well. At least that is how it felt. In abject mortification, she watched Bass' face, which started first somewhere between surprise and amusement but promptly split into a big toothy grin. She couldn't help but glare at him. "You promised you wouldn't laugh."

"And this surprises you that I apparently can't be trusted?" He snickered. Apparently, sullen Bass, who had existed just a few hours ago, had receded back to where ever he generally hides. Seeing her pain and humiliation, though, he stepped forward and grabbed her hand in his. Bringing it up to his lips, eyes never breaking contact with hers, he placed a tender kiss on her knuckles. He then led her towards the direction of the wagon to continue their journey. They had been stopped for too long.

"Relax, Charlie. It isn't that uncommon."

"It's not?"

"No, of course not. Adrenaline is pumping through your body, your temperature is raised because of the physical exertion, and after having just survived some sort of fire fight …well…you are thrilled to be alive and you just want to _live_ that life. You know…a reaffirmation of sorts." Looking at her, he was pleased that she apparently understood what he was saying. After nodding to her, they both looked forward and decided to pick up their pace a bit. They couldn't hear the wagon's movement any longer and Bass wasn't sure if it was because Miles had decided to stop so they could catch up, or if they had just gotten that far behind. "Let's get moving, yeah?"

^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Bass didn't really want to hurry. He knew when they caught up he would have to permanently release Charlie's hand…at least for the day. But even a few hours would feel like forever. He was looking forward to a break from traveling, though. He was emotionally exhausted. _Finally_ meeting his son and discovering what kind of man he had become, Charlie being captured, getting jerked around, and then concluding with him willfully abandoning Connor in order to protect Charlie…after all that, he was just spent.

After walking in silence for several minutes, Charlie couldn't stand the quiet any more. "So, don't say anything to Miles or my mom about my question, please? Or my grandpa."

Bass turned and considered her. Could she look any more adorably mortified? He didn't think so. "Of course, Charlotte." He wouldn't subject her to that sort of public humiliation, real or imagined. He didn't really think she thought he would; he figured she just wanted it said. Of course public humiliation was one thing…private humiliation, well, that was something else. He couldn't stop the smile forming on his face.

"So, I just want you to know," he said squeezing her hand, "next time we're in a battle and afterwards you are feeling_ stimulated_, just let me know. I'll cover for you so you can…take care of business." Upon seeing the suspicion on her face, he elaborated. "I'll just say that you wanted to go refill the canteens for everyone or something."

"Why would that be a good cover story? You always do that after…" _Oh my god_. "You're a bastard!" Smacking him on the shoulder, she noticed he had gone from a smirk, to a huge grin, to full blown laughter upon her realization. He never cared about refilling the canteens for everyone after a fight, "Seriously, all this time, I thought you were being so helpful getting fresh water, but you were really just? God, you suck." He was so mesmerized with her. She could be so tough and cunning at times, but sometimes she could also be incredibly naïve and innocent. Bass was pretty sure Miles knew what he did between finishing a battle and returning with the water…and looking a little more refreshed himself. Apparently, the younger Matheson wasn't as battle experienced—or at least _post_-battle experienced-as he thought.

"You know," he paused noticing her rekindled suspicion, but still with that touch of incorruptible willingness to still give him the benefit of the doubt, "if you don't want me to cover for you, I understand. I could see where it might feel a bit strange to take care of business yourself not far from where your family is standing around."

She nodded, but said nothing.

"So, if you want, I am more than happy to help you out personally. I am really trying to be more of a team player and I really think I could contribute…"

"You are so full of crap." She had a huge grin on her face. He couldn't help himself. He did, too. He needed this sort of light hearted, good natured interaction.

"What?" he asked with mock puzzlement. "I'm just saying that for the sake of our little unit, I'd be willing to take one for the team is all."

"How very generous of you. Little unit?"

"Well, we aren't really truly a family, so…" He began, misunderstanding her question.

"No, no. I just didn't think you would call it _little_. Is it?" After a moment of his glowering, she flashed him a mischievous smile. "But thanks…thanks for that selfless offer."

His expression went from scowl to grin in two seconds flat. "What can I say? I'm a giver." They both just looked at each other's goofy grins, enjoying the pleasantly inappropriate direction the banter had taken. Considering the stress of earlier, it was a welcome diversion.

It was too bad that that diversion kept them from noticing that they had indeed caught up to the now stopped wagon. After nearly walking straight into the back of it, they looked up to find an irritated Miles, Rachel, and Gene, all looking at Monroe.

Not understanding what he possibly could have done to irritate them considering he had literally just arrived, he looked around to see if there was some clue or indication. Then it hit him. Looking down at his hand, he realized that he and Charlie had just strolled upon the group, laughing and holding hands, like they were just wrapping up an enjoyable first date.

Resisting the urge to abruptly rip his hand from Charlie's, Bass opted instead to just look Miles in the eye and with the most innocent look he could muster, just simply ask, "What?"

Though preventing the smirk forming on his face would have been just too much to ask for.


	3. Chapter 3

Charlie slowly removed her hand from Bass' and went about helping to set up camp. She kept her distance from both Miles and Monroe, but continued to watch them. Miles didn't seem outright furious, but he was definitely suspicious. And Bass, well, he just went about his business like it was any other Tuesday. She began helping her mother with the fire.

"So, have you two been sleeping together?"

Her mother's inquery snapped her attention away from the men and back to her present task. "What?" Charlie couldn't really believe the question.

"You heard me."

She could tell her mother was trying to remain neutral, but given the chance, she would probably be spitting daggers.

"No. We aren't. Why would ask that?"

"Well, you two seemed awfully…comfortable."

"So, my only choices are to hate Monroe and plot his death, or hop in bed with him?" Charlie couldn't decide if she was furious at her mother for jumping to that conclusion or if she understood the assumption. Looking at her mom, she started again. "Look, I'll admit, me and Monroe's relationship has changed since the tower. And, yes, I'm using the term _relationship_ very loosely. I don't know if I consider him a friend, but we are friendly and I certainly don't consider him an enemy anymore. But I also haven't forgotten what he's done." She felt a little guilty minimizing the description of her feelings towards Monroe to her mom, but it was already apparent that Rachel didn't approve.

"Well I should hope not…"

"I'm not done. I realize that he did horrible things to our family. Because of the militia, Dad's dead, Maggie's dead, Danny's dead, Nora is dead. I know that he held you prisoner for years." It just hurt when she vocalized how many people she'd lost. She stopped to gather her thoughts, quickly though, before her mother interrupted again. "But mom, Miles was just as much a part of that. They started the republic and the militia together. They went after you, together. They kept you, together…at least until Miles left. And he left a barely functioning Monroe who he knew had abandonment issues. What did Miles think was going to happen? He put his head in the sand and washed his hands of it. And you don't seem to have a problem with him."

Rachel realized that Charlie was right. It didn't lessen the anger and disgust she felt towards Monroe, but she was feeling at least a little hypocritical. "I know it isn't fair that I seem to give Miles a break when he did just as much as Monroe, but I have more of a history with him. But I lost my family…your father and Danny, permanently. Don't I have a right to lash out? Be angry? Want a little vengeance?"

Charlie considered her mom's words. She did have that right. She felt the pain her mom felt. She understood. But unlike her mother, Charlie's understanding extended beyond just her mother. "What about Bass? This whole insanity started when he lost Shelly and the baby." At seeing her mom's surprise, she added, "Yeah. He told me about that. We talked a lot during our trip into Willoughby. He lost his partner and his child, just like you, mom. Why should it be so wrong for him to lash out? Be angry? Want a little vengeance?" She finished, throwing Rachel's own words back at her.

"Don't compare what I want to what he did!" Rachel had suddenly become incensed. "There is a big difference between wanting the man responsible for the deaths of your family and someone causing so much misery and distruction on the scale Monroe did."

"I'm not saying that what he did was justifyable, it wasn't. But at least understand that he did it from a place of pain and loss, not out of some corrupt thirst for power. At least not at the beginning." Charlie looked at her mom, almost pleading with her to understand. "If what he did wasn't simply because he was evil, that means there is a chance he can be good, right?"

"I'm not sure it works that way, Charlie." Rachel really had no faith in Sebastian Monroe's ability to walk the straight and narrow, but seeing the distress on her daughter's face, she relented. "Charlie. I can't sincerely condone anything between you and Monroe, but," she sighed, "you are a grown woman and your experiences with him have obviously been different than mine. If you think that there is hope for him, then all I can say is it's your life to make your own decisions. If those choices turn out to be mistakes, you'll still have me and grandpa and Miles here for you." It was her turn to plead with her daughter to understand that this was the absolute best she was going to get.

Charlie seemed to be willing to accept that, for now. The women continued on with their tasks as Gene approached them. He had heard their converstation, but hadn't jumped in. He didn't want Charlie to feel like she was getting piled on. Nothing would push a young woman into the arms of the wrong man than having her whole family say "no, you can't."

* * *

Bass and Miles had opted to scout the area while Gene, Rachel, and Charlie set up camp. The sun was starting to rise and they wanted to make sure their camp site wasn't easily seen. Bass could feel Miles' anger rolling off him in sheets.

"Did you lie to me?" Miles finally demanded.

Stopping in his tracks, Bass turned around to face Miles. "What? When?"

"When you said you didn't touch her."

Bass had to stop and think a minute. When had he said that? Then it dawned on him. "You mean when we first arrived in Willoughby?"

"Yeah." Miles was trying very hard to remain calm. He and Bass hadn't truly been best friends or even friends in a long time, but the thought of him outright lying, especially regarding Chalie, was tough to accept.

"No. I didn't lie. It wasn't a lie and it still wouldn't be a lie, since you seem so concerned about it." Bass had had about enough of the insinuations and accusations. It was bad enough from Rachel and her father, but coming from Miles…his friend. And then he began to have a revelation. "Why do you care?"

"Because she's my niece!"

"So? Do you expect her to enter a convent?"

"No, Bass, I don't. But I would expect a friend of mine to keep his hands off. I didn't think I would have to spell it out for you, but she is off limits to you."

"Because she's your niece, and we're best friends."

"Now you're getting it, dick!"

And at that moment, Bass' revelation fully formed.

"There's one problem with that little line of logic."

Miles stood there waiting for the explanation. "Yeah, what's that?"

"As you have said time and time again, and backed it up with your actions, we _aren't_ friends. Or at least, you don't consider me a friend, and it just occurred to me, I don't really consider you one anymore, either. I get that I'm a bastard and that I've done some horrendously unforgivable things, but your hands aren't clean either. You think I was going off the rails? Great. And what was your solution to that? Help me? No, you _threw me away_! Left me to be alone. Just like I was after my family died, just like after Shelly and the baby. I get it, Miles. Nothing I can do will _ever_ get you to change your mind about me, so guess what? You don't get to throw our friendship in my face as blackmail or extortion any more." With that Bass stalked off back to the camp site, leaving Miles to finish the recon by himself.

* * *

Charlie watched Bass approach and knew he was angry. She could only imagine what Miles had said to him, which is stupid for him to all of a sudden get so overly protective since Miles couldn't be bothered with her half the time anymore. At least it felt that way.

She wanted to go to him, make sure everything was OK, but thought that he probably wanted a little time to cool down first. She looked over to her mother and grandfather who were each doing their best to pretend Monroe hadn't just walked over.

As she watched him some more, she realized there was a sadness about him that wasn't there before. A loss. This couldn't be about her. Even if Miles had _forbid_ anything from going on between the two of them, that wouldn't do it, because she knew damned well they would both ignore it. Was he sinking back into his depression about losing Connor? As he got up to walk a little further away from camp, she decided to follow. He may still want to be alone, but at least she could let him know she was there for him.

As he walked up and leaned against a tree, she heard him sigh.

"Hey." She began quietly.

Bass turned around and looked at her. His face didn't light up into a smile, but she could see the gratitude in his eyes. As she got up even with him, they simultaneously put an arm around the other's waist.

"Are you OK?" She asked as she leaned into him.

"No." She saw him dip his head and the loss he was feeling was emanating from him. "It just hit me that I've really lost him."

She leaned in a little more. "Hey, you know where he is now. Maybe in a little…"

Bass looked at her confused, then recognition set in. "No, not Connor. Miles. I've been holding on to this pipe dream that we were still friends. That the last few years may have damaged things but in the end, we were still brothers." He got a far away look in his eye. "But we aren't."

Charlie didn't know what to say. She didn't want to fill him with empty platitudes like "no, that's not true" or "everything will be OK." She had watched Miles since she and Monroe had returned to Willoughby and while she had absolutely expected Miles to be cold towards him upon arrival, she had expected some degree of thawing. They had a lot to reconcile, and Monroe had a long way to go as far as redemption went, but Miles was obviously done trying…had been done trying a long time ago.

She wasn't sure if she should try to intervene on Bass' behalf. Mathesons weren't exactly known for being forgiving. They took pig-headedness to a new level. But her relationship with this man had grown, mainly because she had begun to give him a chance. The more she thought about it, the more irritated with Miles she was becoming. She realized that Bass wasn't the only one Miles had been shunning. She felt distant from him, too. Was that distance because she was forgiving Bass? Was it because he was so focused on her mom? Aaron? The patriots? Or had he just turned into a dick over the past six months? When they got back to Willoughby, she was going to have a talk with him. This couldn't continue.

They stood there for a while, enjoying the silence and each other's warmth when they heard someone approach. They both turned around to see her grandfather.

"You need to get back to camp. Miles said he thought he saw some movement out on the horizon."

Props to her grandpa for at least attempting to not look judgemental at them. They looked at each other, releasing each other at the same time. "Maybe you weren't so paranoid after all."

Bass nodded, but irritated he had doubted himself. "I knew someone was out there."

They walked back to camp and Miles tossed a gun at Bass. Charlie started to reach for her crossbow as her mom and grandpa each grabbed guns. Bass stopped her. "We don't know what is out there. Use a gun."

Rachel and Gene stayed closer to camp to pack up…rest would have to wait…while Miles, Monroe, and Charlie went to a ridge to have look at whatever new threat that seemed to be coming.


	4. Chapter 4

Charlie was worried. Being out here on the ridge looking for threats shouldn't have her this worried…about the people she was with. It never had before. But before was different. Before she would have been with two men who while having obstacles between them, were best friends, brothers. But now she could feel the chasm between them. They were both silent, tense, and distrustful. She didn't know what had been said between the two, but it was more than the usual sniping that had been going on for the past several months.

While scanning the horizon, she also observed them, or more to the point, Miles. She already knew that Bass was hurting from his acceptance that his lifelong friendship with her uncle appeared over. Miles, though…that was a different hurt. Like reality had struck him in the face. It couldn't have been the end of the friendship…he was the one who had been fanning that notion for the past several years. He almost seemed…ashamed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by movement below, but before she could really point it out, the sniping began. She wasn't sure who started it. Miles, maybe. But it was like a dam had broken between the two. Oh, they were still the consummate soldiers. There were no raised voices or thrown punches, but they were definitely not fully engaged in the mission. When she finally got their attention, or more specifically, Miles' attention, she pointed to where she saw the movement. He glanced down, but didn't respond. Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe it was just an animal. Bass wasn't even looking in that direction. She couldn't tell if he saw something else in a different area, or if he was just sulking.

As Miles started in on Bass again, she decided to get a better look from a different vantage point…and to get away from those two. She slowly moved across the ridge. She would have liked to move down the ridge, but that would have left her exposed, especially in the daylight, and with a difficult escape if all things went to hell. She made it a dozen yards from her original spot with the men when suddenly a shot rang out. Actually, a lot of shots. She ducked behind a boulder that seemed bigger when she dove there, but as the shots rang out around her, she really wished it was at least twenty percent bigger. She could barely maneuver her shotgun without exposing herself.

Even in the daylight, locating the shooters was difficult. She looked back towards Miles and Bass, who were scanning the landscape trying to find the shooters. Apparently they had determined the general direction of the enemy's shots and fired back. They didn't hit anything, but they were close enough to cause those hiding to shift positions. With that movement, targets were located and her companions took aim, hitting at least one and causing the others to take cover. That lull allowed Charlie to get some shots off too. She was too far to try to make it back to the safety of her cohorts, but at least she felt a little more in control of her situation.

Volleys were exchanged and from their higher vantage point, they were able to pick off the other side eventually.

Charlie sprinted back to her original location. "Who do you suppose that was?" She asked. Anger laced her words, but it wasn't anger towards the unknown enemy. It was to the two men in her company. "I knew I saw movement and _you_ blew me off Miles. Just like you have been doing lately." She didn't think she could sound any more accusatory if she tried. But it was an accusation. His head hadn't been in the game for a while now and she was calling him on it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an ever so faint smirk on Bass' face. He wasn't getting off that easily. "And _you_, you were too busy sulking or stewing or whatever you were doing to have my back." Yeah, the faint smirk vanished. That particular realization hit him in an instant and he had the good sense to look ashamed by it.

She began to stalk back to camp but turned around to face them. "I don't know what happened between the two of you in the last hour, but _fix it_ before you show your faces back at camp." With that she turned back around, no doubt enraged and grumbling under her breath about them.

* * *

The two men sat scanning the horizon in silence under the guise of making sure no one else was near, but they both knew they were just avoiding the conversation that neither one wanted to have, but that Charlie had demanded. Who would be first to break the silence?

Looking off to the far horizon, he decided to start off, "We need to figure out how to work together, Miles. Friends or not, we're soldiers. And we can't put Charlie, or even the others, at risk because of our issues." When there was no response, Bass turned to look at Miles. He was silently nodding, looking at the ground. At least he recognized that they had a serious problem if they couldn't reach some agreement.

Squinting his eyes to study Miles harder, Bass was a little confused. "What exactly are you so upset about anyway?" This breakup wasn't new to Miles, so why should he be so affected? "I allowed myself to get distracted back there because I figured you still had your head on straight and wouldn't let anything happen to your niece. _I'm_ the one who just accepted we weren't friends. _I'm_ the one who had just let it go now. _You_ had done that already. Years ago."

Sighing, Miles sat down with his back to the horizon. No reason they should be maintaining this façade of recon. If they were going to have this conversation, then they were going to have it. Still not saying anything, Miles looked at his former friend and collected his thoughts.

"I guess once you accepted it, it became real."

That wasn't what he had expected. Bass really studied Miles at that point and noticed he was experiencing a loss, too.

"You know, it was like while it was just me, I could feel like I had distanced myself from you, had cut you out of my life. But with you still trying, I could still keep a connection to you. I had it both ways…no friendship and still friends. When you said we weren't friends, I suddenly felt that connection…vanish." While admitting this, Miles had only sporadically been looking at Bass. But he suddenly looked at him with intensity. "It hurt."

Bass stood and was desperate to lighten the now too serious atmosphere. Nodding in understanding, he asked, "So. Do we hug now?"

Miles snorted as he rose too and faced him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Look Bass, I don't think we are ever going to be brothers again. Not for a long time anyway…time we probably won't live to see. I don't even know if we can be friends, let alone best friends."

Seeing the slightly stricken expression on Bass' face, Miles realized that he had been hoping that maybe they could reconcile somehow. And unexpectedly, Miles didn't find that idea so abhorrent at the moment. "But, you are a part of my life. And to be honest, if I can't think of you as redeemable, I can't think of myself as redeemable."

Without thinking, they found themselves giving each other a man-hug, which quickly became an honest to god hug. Like two friends who hadn't seen each other in a very long time. It would take time, but at least there had been an agreement to try. Stepping apart, they realized they had both got a little misty-eyed and both felt the need to change the subject.

"So, this little fire fight kinda reminded me that one time in Afghanistan when…"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's not go down that bit of memory lane. At my expense."

"But Miles, it was awesome when…"

"Shut up."

The two men walked towards camp, both a little more at peace, and one with a huge smile on his face remembering the time when his best friend got crapped on by a donkey after a fire fight on a ridge in Afghanistan. Suddenly Miles stopped and turned to Bass.

"You know I can never condone a relationship between you and Charlie, you understand that, right?"

He wasn't sure why his tenuously repaired not-quite-a-friendship with Miles made him think they wouldn't have this conversation, but Bass realized that they might as well hash this out too before returning.

"What do you want me to say, Miles? I care about her…and don't give me any 'if you cared about her, you'd stay away from her' crap."

"You aren't good for her."

"Why? What exactly is it about me that makes me so bad for her now?"

"You became unhinged, obsessed with power."

"That was the old me. That was General Monroe." Recognizing that while those traits described the old way he _acted_, he was still the same person he had always been. Feeling a little dejected and unsure of himself, Bass wanted to make Miles understand that Charlie was a big reason why he no longer wanted to behave the way General Monroe had.

"And you can guarantee that you won't ever become him again? Bass, I _want_ to believe that it will be OK, and I do believe you think you can be a good man for her, but…" Miles paused looking for the right words, sadly whispering, "I have my doubts."

"And can _you_ guarantee you won't become the Butcher of Baltimore again? Miles, we all have it in us to be evil and do horrendous things. The two of us, especially. I get that. But if all I ever strive to be is General Monroe, that is all I'll ever be. And no one has made me want to try to be someone else…better…like she has." He paused to laugh a bit. "And she did it without even trying."

Getting serious, he continued, "Look, I can't guarantee I won't become that guy again, but I care about her…more than I have anyone since I don't know, Shelly maybe. I can't just walk away from that without…." Sighing, he tried a different approach. "Besides, she's an adult. It isn't up to you, or me. She has the right to make decisions about her own life now. And if she…God, if she actually cared for me, she has a right to act on it, regardless of what anyone else thinks or wants."

"And if she doesn't feel the same way?"

Bass brought his hands up to scrub his face, as if to banish the idea. "I don't know. Maybe I'd head back to Mexico to try to fix things with Connor. Maybe I'll head out to California. After we take care of the patriots. Regardless of what happens with anything else, I am here to fight with you."

Miles nodded as if he was at least trying to accept what Bass was saying. "I still can't give you permission."

Bass smiled at that for some reason. "I wouldn't expect you to. You may not be her father…" Bass paused, waiting to see if he could catch any indication of anything on Miles' face, but he had remained unreadable, "at least not biologically. But you have become her de facto dad. It's good that you take the job so seriously."

With that Miles returned the smile, "So you're saying if I catch you with her, I can shoot you?"

"Let's not go that far."

* * *

Rachel and Gene watched as Miles and Monroe returned to camp. Something had changed. An acceptance was there that hadn't been. There was still some distrust and a little tension, but it reminded Rachel of them pre-Blackout.

"Are we packed up? Ready to go?" Miles looked around camp to see the wagon loaded, but Charlie was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Charlie?"

Rachel nodded her head, indicating a direction away from camp. "She went to refill the canteens before we left. She'll be back in a bit."

"And you let her go by herself? We aren't one hundred percent sure there aren't others lurking around." Miles was shocked. He didn't think they were so low on water that Charlie should risk herself like that.

"She knows how to take care of herself. Wasn't she just in a gun battle? She'll be fine. Right? She'll be fine." Rachel started doubting her confidence in the situation.

Bass was a little worried, too. "I'll go find her. Make sure nothing's wrong." He started walking in the direction that Rachel had indicated. "This way, right? We should be back soon. Be ready to go." Bass started off at a trot to go find her.

What if there had been others that had stayed out of the shoot out, or had come along as reinforcements? He picked up his pace. Fortunately, he could run since it was still day time. Was there even a water source in this direction? God, if Charlie was just roaming around aimlessly to be away from camp to avoid him and Miles' bickering and something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself.

As he reached a high point in the terrain, he slowed his pace to survey his options. He decided to go down towards a deteriorating barn. Maybe the barn had a working well there. Hopefully Charlie thought the same thing. As he got closer, he was incredibly relieved to see that Charlie was there. Sitting? Deciding to take a break while the group was waiting to leave?

As he approached, he was dumbfounded. She should be more aware of her surroundings. He shouldn't be able to get this close without her noticing. She must still be ticked off because of earlier. Or still hyped up because of the fire fight. Then it hit him. The fire fight, the canteens to get water. She had just mentioned this to him the night before. He slowed up to keep his distance when she finally heard his approach.

He was about to apologize for infringing on her privacy, but when she stood up and faced him, he realized that he wasn't interrupting anything. Either she really had only gone to get more water, or she had already finished releasing her tension. Before he could say anything, though, she gave him this look. A look filled with concern, with tenderness, with lust. He returned it in kind. They stood there staring at each other. A look was all they needed, all they ever needed.

_You take my breath away, Charlotte._

_ I waited for you, Bass.  
_

_I don't deserve you. _

_ You deserve a chance…at so much.  
_

_I don't think I can live without you._

_ I don't want you to have to try.  
_

_I love you. _

_I love you.  
_

Without another moment's hesitation, he strode up to her, embracing her in his arms and crushing his lips to hers. Either she was going to reject him, or accept him and fortunately, it appeared she was accepting him.

Clouds gathered overhead, blocking the brightness of day, but not as some dark omen. It was as if the universe was trying to give them the privacy they needed to live their lives without the glare of judgment.

The End


End file.
